


Beyond

by brewess



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, SOFT SHIT ONLY, and also ptsd implied, anyway i never would have expected to write something like this but i had fun, do not roast me, i'm just trying to cope with quarantine and have fun, quarantine writing, roasting is not allowed, soft shit, some ptsd mention, this is soft ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brewess/pseuds/brewess
Summary: I'm just trying to have fun. I know Blizzard sucks. Enjoy Highlord Isona Fordragon and her dumb not-boyfriend boyfriend. I listened to so much Carly Rae Jepsen while writing this.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Original Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Before the Storm

Though the war table here had been put away and the Silver Hand once again had unofficially fractured with the rise of the Fourth War, Isona always found time to return to the Sanctum of Light beneath the chapel. She had little time to tarry today, but she would make the most of what she did have; choosing to visit Tirion’s tomb and pay special attention to the statues of the fallen that stood vigil over the holy site. Isona wondered if she would soon be joining them. If today would mark her fall. 

She pushed the intrusion from her mind as she gave the plaque before her a final trace with her armored finger. 

  
  


_Lady Mara Fordragon_

_High Clerist of Stormwind_

_Patron of the Refugees who fled to Lordaeron after the First War_

_She was the bright mother of our future. May she rest in the Light._

  
  


Isona loved this spot in the Sanctum. A beam of sunlight always shone in through the stained glass and settled on the nearby patch of stone floor. Today the golden light served as an encouraging reminder that the spirit of her Aunt Mara was with her; now and always, and she would need it for the coming trial. Isona gave a final pass over the statue before turning on her heel and taking her leave from the sacred site. The only sounds as she left the clinking of her plate armor and the hails from her fellow knights.

It was a brief portal exchange to the deserts of Uldum, far in southern Kalimdor, and it took no time at all for the whispers to return. The poisonous tongue was in her ears before even stepping foot onto the blazing sands. 

_So close… I can taste your fear… You will be alone… I wait for you in the Sunken City…_

The whispers had grown louder over the last few months, intruding on her sleep and in her every waking moment outside the Sanctum. Here in Uldum, they were strong enough to pull at her own thoughts and dared to replace them. Were it not for Wrathion’s assistance, Isona dreaded to speculate what could have occurred. She was thankful for his help and for the tenuous armistice of the Horde and Alliance that allowed for her and her companions to bring the fight to Ny’alotha. 

The road to peace was rife with conflict and discord, and she had wished she could have sided with Tyrande and brought Sylvanas to justice, but even Isona knew the banshee would have to wait.

_Mg'uulwi N'Zoth, eth'razzqi worg zz oou…_

Isona shook her head in an attempt to banish the whispers again from her unwilling ears. She shut her eyes, exhaling a deep, steady breath before opening them again at the sound of a new voice.

“There ye are, lass.” The voice belonging to a dwarf man. “I’ll tell Orla and Yuval te call off the search party.” He continued, running a hand through his dark beard, he had a teasing look as he gestured for Isona to follow.

“Sorry, Roghlan, I took a few portals and the ley lines were a bit erratic.” Isona offered an apologetic tone and followed her friend.

“I’m only pullin’ ye leg, lass. Wrathion wanted a word with us is all. Ye know how these black dragons get, impatient, impulsive, what haff ye.” Roghlan gesticulated vaguely, causing Isona to smile. It had been awhile since she had seen Roghlan, he’d been spending more and more time on the Wandering Isle as this day had drawn closer.

“Did you change your hair? I swear it looks different.” Isona followed beside Roghlan as they waded through the eerily quiet streets of Ramkahen.

“Ha! Ye noticed!” He snickered, giving Isona’s arm a playful slug, her armor clanking at the collision with his fist. “Thought I might get all gussied up fer the big old Death Squid, somethin’ nice te look at as I’m punchin’ all two thousand of ‘is eyes in, ye know?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, “Always the charmer, you. I’m sure N’Zoth will be ever so thankful that the humble monk thought enough of this to dress up.”

“He better! The bastard!” Roghlan’s voice pitched up in response. “S’over here we’re meetin’.” The dwarf turned a corner and knocked on the side of the stone of the nondescript building. A moment passed before a shimmering doorway appeared on the wallface, pulsating with Wrathion’s familiar magic. 

“After you, Highlord.” Roghlan sidestepped to let Isona in first. The doorway shifted back when both heroes had entered, leaving the Ramkahen street quiet and still once again.

Before her now were the faces of her waiting friends who sat spread across an enormous circular table of granite. 

“Ah! Wonderful for you to join us, Highlord. So much saving the world to do, so little time.” Wrathion sat opposite where Isona and Roghlan had entered. 

Isona offered a softened expression, taking her place in the seat that awaited her. 

She settled herself, plate armor clicking against the stone of the chair and table. “Shall we begin?”

*****

  
  


He was late. So late. Punctuality wasn’t usually at the forefront of Flynn Fairwind’s mind; he ran on his own schedule and that was how he liked it, but today was different. Today was dire.

Flynn had pleaded to accompany her and see her off like he had at the Battle of Dazar’alor, but Isona begged him not to, insisting it was too dangerous. He acquiesced to her wishes only because he had hatched a plan in its stead, and it was now time to put that in motion, hopefully just in time and not too late, and for this he needed Jaina. _She owes me a favor, anyway._ He mused to himself as he made haste through the bustling docks to Proudmoore Keep. 

He was out of breath by the time he reached the chamber where the Lord Admiral sat, engrossed in the many parchments and numerous tomes that littered her oaken desk. Flynn had burst through the doors, words spilling out of his mouth faster than she could listen, and four guards on his tail, all ordering him to cease his foolish intrusion and stand aside. 

Flynn ignored the angry guards as he always did, “Jaina, it’s important and it’s immediate, I need a favor.” He leaned on the ornately carved wooden doorway, shrugging off the hand at his shoulder that was trying to pull him away.

Jaina quirked a brow, irritated at the interruption. She’d ordered her staff and guards to turn away any visitors or guests for the day, and still, Flynn had forced his way in. 

She’d been in the weeds with her research for hours and was nearing a breakthrough. All of her concentration evaporated upon Flynn’s arrival. She closed the heavy volume she had been pouring over and set it beside her. The Lord Admiral let her head slip backward and hit the wood of the chair she sat in, a hand coming to her face as she pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “Leave us.” She finally said, waving off the guards who were poised to drag Flynn out. The four shuffled out, disappointed but obedient, leaving Flynn and Jaina alone.

“You know I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t urgent.” Flynn started, entering into her study and shutting the heavy door behind him.

“Do I know that? You and I have different definitions of the word ‘urgent’.” Jaina couldn’t hide the displeasure in her voice. She wasn’t in the mood for it today, she was already fraught with nerves over the planned storming of Ny’alotha that was set to begin any hour now. She’d sent Isona off the day before with hopeful words, but her heart was still full of fear. Her research had been her only source of distraction.

Flynn slipped his hands into the pockets of his worn leather coat, attempting to hide his nervousness. “Just take my word for it.” He stepped closer to Jaina’s desk where she sat. “I need you to project me, magically, for uh, just for a moment. You know, to send a well wish.”

Jaina’s brow furrowed. Flynn was no mage, and his ineptitude regarding the details and workings of the arcane was on full display. “Why would I do that? Just send them a birthday card, Flynn, I’ll even lend you the postage if it’ll get you out of my study.”

He shook his head, “It’s not that. Nothing like that. It’s urgent— I.. I need to speak with Iso— I mean, the Highlord, before she goes. Into the Black City, that is. You know.” Flynn had been so caught up with his lack of punctuality in the matter, he realized now it had been foolhardy of him to assume Jaina wouldn’t ask questions.

They were both silent for a moment, staring, in hopes the other would speak first. 

“Please, Jaina.” His voice was softer this time, more vulnerable than she was used to hearing from him. “I just need to tell her something-- before it’s too late.”

Jaina absently tugged at some loose hair that had come undone from her braid, twirling it in her fingers before answering. 

“Alright.”

*****

  
  


The sky was dark and murked with stormy, violet clouds, Isona knew night was falling. She had all she needed for the journey into the depths of the Black City-- her sword freshly sharpened and crackling with electric energy, her cloak clasped tightly to her golden plate, her Azerite pendant beating like a heart underneath her armor.

Isona stood before the foreboding portal, a sickly aura shrouding the archway. Ny’alotha lay just beyond. A pit grew in her stomach at the sight of it all; Isona had seen glimpses of the Sleeping City, walked its twisted grounds in visions and dreams, but never physically set foot in the place. She could only hope that she was not marching to her own demise.

_Sk'tek agth nuq N'Zoth yyqzz…_

The venomous song had slipped into her thoughts again, but was overtaken by a familiar, if unexpected voice.

“Is this thing on? Jaina, wait-- is it on?”

Isona turned from the portal to gaze behind her where she saw the projected image of Flynn Fairwind as he spoke to someone out of Isona’s view.

Isona shifted to fully face the projection, she crossed her arms and squinted in confusion at the scene before her. 

Flynn returned his attention, realizing Isona was in fact listening. “Oh, hey, Highlord. Glad I caught you.”

“Did you really twist the Lord Admiral’s arm to get her to do this for you?” Isona took a few steps closer to get a better look at the conjured projection. Jaina’s work was impeccable as always, of course.

Flynn shrugged his shoulders, “Ah what can I say, I have a way with words. And she owed me.”

She shook her head and mimicked his casual tone, “Why do I find it all the more likely you owe her a favor. Or twenty.” Isona cocked her head to the side, unable to hide her smile, she never could when in his presence.

Flynn brushed her comment aside, “That is a matter for a time that isn’t now.” He returned the smile she gave him. He was so grateful he had caught her before she was spirited away from him for who knows how long. The very notion of losing her was something he’d worked tirelessly to put out of his mind, but the gnawing fear had come back in full force seeing her now. And he was so far away, reasonably safe in Boralus while she, the woman he had come to so ardently adore, was rising to once more look certain doom in the face.

“I’ll be quick, Highlord, I know you’re ever so busy saving the fucking world _again_ and all.” His tone was in jest, but even he knew the gravity of the situation. Flynn took the full sight of her before him, now that she’d shuffled a few steps closer to his projected form. He could hear the metal and chain of her armor shifting against itself and see the soft glow emanating from her very being. She was all light. His light. 

Isona crossed her arms, secretly thankful for this final distraction from him before she marched ahead. This was a last chance for her to study his features and remember every detail of him before the storm ahead.

“I was just… I was thinking…” Flynn could feel the slightest heat forming at the tips of his ears, now of all times he was nervous. “I think we should go somewhere after all this. You know, when you kill Spooky Kraken Boy and things return to kind of normal. And you deserve a holiday, you more than anyone else.”

A wave of surprise washed over her. Of all the things Flynn could have popped over to say to her, this was very low on the list. Isona’s features bloomed into a genuine laugh. “You want to take me on a vacation? Flynn, I--.” A hand came to her mouth, unsuccessfully covering her laugh. “What did you call it? Spooky Kraken?” The gloved hand left her mouth, now holding her head as she laughed, cackling even.

  
  


“Look, you don’t have to decide now. Just something to think about while you’re in there.” He pointed to the primeval portal behind her. 

She took a moment to compose herself, the giggles subsiding. Isona adjusted her gloves before turning her gaze back to him, suddenly wishing Flynn was really there and not just a trick of the arcane. She knew he was safe in Boralus, protected from that which she hunted, but she couldn’t deny her want to pull him to her in a firm embrace for one last time. 

“Alright, Fairwind. I’ll give it some consideration.” Her heart fluttered in her chest as she gave her reply. 

A pause followed, neither party wanting to say the parting words.

“Flynn… if I don’t come back--.” She started

“Oh no, I’ll have none of that, Highlord.” He put up his hands, not willing to listen to another word of her grim sentence. “That overgrown cephalopod dickhead doesn’t stand a chance. God or not. And don’t say anything cheeky about me knowing the word cephalopod. I’ve read a few books. Just don’t ask me to spell it” He winked, sly as a fox. 

Isona softened at his words. Flynn often redirected sincerity with humor, and it occasionally annoyed her, but this was not the case here today. His words though seemingly naïve, were reassuring. He believed in her and that warmed her more than any fire or priest’s blessing. 

Flynn continued, “When you come back, I’ll be here. Not like I have anywhere else to be anyway. Just don’t take too long, or I’ll decide where we’re going, and I’d hate to disappoint you.”

Cavalier or not, Isona savored his words and gave a nod to him. She was hesitant to speak as she felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes, and more hesitant to make any promise that could be broken. She glanced back at the twisting portal, noticing the last of her comrades slipping off into the abyss that lay beyond it. Their moment was spent.

“Time for me to be off, Flynn. Don’t do anything rash while I’m not there.” Isona studied him a final time as she spoke and gave her shoulders a full roll.

He shook his head, “Oh, darling, you know I can’t make any guarantees with that.” Flynn swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to ignore how sad her eyes looked to him from here.

Isona shot him a half smile, “Try for me.” She said, turning away from him and walking in stride towards the realm that awaited. 

Flynn watched her leave, just able to hold his fear inside himself as she ascended the stairs.

“Hey, Isona--.” He called to her, words hitching in his throat.

She turned back to him, just able to detect the heaviness in his voice.

“I love you.”

Flynn just caught the look of shock on her face as the spell faded away. She was gone. He was now facing a dusty bookshelf, nothing more.

The weight of the words hit her like a jolt of electricity to her spine and the sorrow that followed was as intense. The spell withered before she could say the same to him. The words she had been wanting to share with him for weeks, months even. And he was gone. 

Isona’s detachment broke as her eye caught something moving in the portal before her, a shadow skittering and coiling just behind the backdrop. The same baleful voice that had been haunting her slithered back into her mind.

_Such a heavy burden you carry. Soon you will be free of it…_

Isona didn’t shake her head to be rid of it this time. She spoke back.

“ _No. Your games end here. I am coming, and you cannot run.”_

Isona’s hand clenched around the hilt of her sword as she drew it, lightning crackled in the air as it was unsheathed from her back, and she stepped through the portal.

  
  



	2. Undertow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highlord Isona Fordragon and her compatriots were successful in their storming of Ny'alotha, the Waking City and vanquished N'Zoth, their great foe, however the victory was not easily earned. Isona may have returned alive, but she does not return the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not great but it is good and I had fun-- yeehaw.

The horror of the ordeal still tugged at the corners of her eyes and clawed at her mind. Sleep evaded her the last few weeks since her return from the Waking City. A victorious return, but Isona was not unscathed. She had walked in the shadow of death and void, endured the dragonfire and taint and corruption, defeated the very essence of N’Zoth itself-- but though she still drew breath, the agony of what she witnessed in the accursed place followed her back and clung to her like a sickly shade.

This afternoon was no different; the grey Boralus weather was no help to her mood. Isona lay reclined in the porcelain tub, wisps of steam curling out of the water around her aching form. The air smelled of silkweed, firebloom, and black salt thanks to the herbal soak Erathas had given her that morning. The druid had come round to check in on her healing wounds and mind. She replayed his reassuring words in her head,  _ Give it some more time, Highlord,  _ he had said, rubbing a thick salve on the back of her shoulder where twilight flame had melted her armor and ravaged the skin and muscle beneath.  _ You are healing well, even if it is not as fast as you’d like.  _ She sat up then, wringing her soaked hair between her pruning hands.

Isona felt oddly small as she sat hunched in the tub, the water lapping at her waist. Rarely did she feel as such; always in her heavy plate and a broad shield at her side, always the lightsworn savior who lept into action. Here, she was small and desperate to wash the war from her skin and soul.

Isona sunk back into the comforting waters when she tired of scrubbing herself raw. She barely left her ears above the water's surface so she could hear the rain against the glass of her windows and the dulled sound of the bar piano playing a few floors below. She loved her room here at the Snug Harbor, and was grateful for the peace she could find in this moment, even if it was brief.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but the water had grown noticeably cooler by the time she had heard the knock at her door. Isona knew who was there by the sound and knock pattern alone.

“Just me, Highlord.” The voice confirmed her suspicion.

“Come in, Fairwind.” She said, pulling her knees to her chest more out of habit than anything else.

The wooden door loudly creaked as Flynn pushed it open and entered her room. “It’s coming down something fierce outside.” The man removed his boots and shrugged off his soaked jacket as Isona looked onward at him through the open doorway that connected her bedroom to the ensuite bath, her brows slightly raised. “I’m afraid I’ve come with some bad news too, or good, depending on how you look at it.” He continued, “Your victory garden party at the Norwington Estate has been postponed to tomorrow evening because of the storm. Taelia gave me the message, she's downstairs in the lounge.”

Isona blinked and chewed at her lip, “Truth be told, I’d completely forgotten about it.” An absent hand came to her hair, tucking some of the damp chestnut locks behind her ear. 

Flynn fetched the stool that was tucked beneath the vanity, and moved to place it in the bathing chamber beside the tub where she remained. “Forgetting your fancy party plans and running a bath without me.” He took a seat on the stool, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the lip of the tub. A quick hand drifted into the water and rose again to flick a tiny spray at her. “You’re losing your edge, darling.” His typical half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched her eyes squint at the water.

Isona wiped a few droplets at her face, returning the soft smile he gave her. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wait.” She flicked a bit of water back at him, though it hardly mattered; with him this close, she could see how the rain had indeed pelted him. His hair was as wet as hers and a few raindrops had lingered on the edges of his lashes like morning dew.

“I suppose I’ll forgive you.” His hand played no clever trick this time, instead reaching into the lukewarm water and taking her own. He brought it to his lips, kissing her palm, each of her fingers, and her wrist which still housed a dull ache. 

Isona let a heavy breath leave her body, eyes slipping shut for a moment as the tension eased from her shoulders. She was relieved she was no longer alone.

“How are you?” He asked sincerely, turning his head back to her.

Her eyes opened wearily. She hardly knew how she was, she hadn’t felt herself since coming back, and Flynn knew that, but she didn’t want to admit just how much it was still affecting her. How her entire body felt inflamed and raw, how the screams and claws still held firm in her, how though she and her comrades had been successful in bringing the Black Empire to its knees-- it still felt like a hollow victory and unfinished.

Her long silence and empty expression gave her away.

“That poorly, hmm?” His voice soft like down feathers, a voice he saved only for her. “Why don’t you come out of there, water’s cold now anyway.”

Flynn gave her hand a tug, ushering her to rise from the water and accept the warmth of the cream colored bath sheet that awaited her. It was plush against her skin and a needed change from that water. 

“Thank you.” She said, bringing a hand to cup his face and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Flynn left her to dry off while he slipped to the bedroom and discarded his shirt, it was still unpleasantly damp from the deluge outside. He untied his hair while he was at it, affixing it anew in a looser ponytail.

Isona joined him in the bedroom, stool in hand. She replaced it at its designated spot at the tiny vanity in the corner and took a seat, the towel tied firmly around her. Isona hid her grimace as she reached to take the brush that lay on the oaken vanity, hating the sight of her left hand. Three of the fingernails still black from bruising, a fourth missing entirely. Her whole hand was discolored up to her forearm. It had been a casualty during her fight with Shad’har, the void hound had eaten the glove protecting the hand during their battle and given her a beating. She’d managed to dig the glove out of the beast’s vile gut after the fact, but the damage to her digits had been done. Isona shuddered, remembering it, but went along working the brush through her wet hair.

Flynn couldn’t help but enjoy the view. Even in the mundane act of brushing her hair, he saw the toned muscles of her back and shoulders move fluidly. She was statuesque and completely perfect. Her arms were hard and chiseled, capable of holding the broadest shield and also him.  _ I am so lucky. _ He snickered quietly to himself at the thought.

Isona caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror before her. “Yes..?” She cocked her head to lock eyes with him. 

“Nothing, Highlord. I just like savoring the fact that I get to stare at the most beautiful woman on Azeroth.” He gave her a sly wink.

Isona snorted and rolled her eyes, “I’m already sleeping with you, Fairwind, you don’t have to hit me with the flattery. Now come be useful and rub this into my back.” She tosses a jar of healing salve at him which he fails to catch.

Flynn shakes his head, still smiling, and settles himself behind her, unscrewing the cap of the jar. The scent of its contents makes his face sour. “Ugh, what is this shit? Smells like fucking rotten seaweed.” He wafts the air, trying to get the odor out of his nostrils.

“Hey, be nice. It’s something Erathas gave me for the wounds, it’s been helping.” Isona gave him a slight glare through the looking glass. She crossed her arms over her chest after she finished with her hair, tying it in its signature bun.

“ _ Fine…”  _ He said begrudgingly, taking a small scoop of the translucent balm with the pad of his little finger and working it into a nearly closed wound on her shoulder blade. He hadn't asked her what it was from-- he didn't want to know, it was better that way for now. In his eyes, she was healing well; almost all of the major injuries she’d received during the storming of Ny’alotha had mended or were nearing it.

Seeing herself in the mirror now like this, Isona could see just how many scars she sported on her body, and wondered how many more she would have by the time she was fully recovered. The evidence of the life she lived was all over her, so easily giving it all away. The faded claw marks from Kil’jaeden. The pale, thick scar tissue from when she had been impaled by Frostmourne. The slice across the side of her head from Garrosh-- he had broken her jaw and she knew she would never forget spitting blood in his face that day. She wondered what would join the cast of scar stories, secretly wishing it would be none, she had enough.

“I must really love you, rubbing this nonsense on you.” Flynn murmured as he finished his handiwork, pressing a cloth bandage to her skin and tying it around her firmly, but not too tight.

“You really must.” She laughed faintly. “Thank you.”

The glow had found its way back into her skin, a light that had dimmed was warm once again, and Flynn was pleased that Isona looked at least a little more like herself.

“Well.” He exhaled deeply, a free hand coming to her neck to lovingly massage the soreness that remained. “No garden party. The evening is ours, what are we doing with it?”

Isona lets the question sit with her a moment before answering. “I’d like to be held.” It was a vulnerable request, but a necessary one.

Flynn tucks a loose whisp of dark hair behind her ear, caressing the shell-like curve of the edge. “You’re in luck, Highlord, I am very, very good at that.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers again to my pal Aidan for being the best when it comes to these two, and cheers to anyone who is reading this self indulgent nonsense, you are great and a total delight.

**Author's Note:**

> I took the Shath'Yar quotes from Wowpedia, and you can find all the goods for that here: 
> 
> https://wow.gamepedia.com/Shath%27Yar
> 
> Special shoutout to Aidan (@highexarchs) for listening to me talk about this and indulging me at all times. They are simply the best and too good for this world.


End file.
